


On the Third Day of Christmas

by miscreant_rose



Series: Cancelled 'verse [6]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9093895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscreant_rose/pseuds/miscreant_rose
Summary: After the traditional Boxing Day Crawley gathering, Mary finds herself with some expectations of things to come under the mistletoe, but as always, things do not go as one hopes...





	

 

 

He was running his fingers up and down her spine, lightly, unconsciously, but she was all too aware of his touch, the way electricity seemed to gather under his fingers, spiraling out, wrapping around them, pulling them into a cocoon of just them, even amidst a busy room. She glanced down, slightly sideways, watching as her hand casually brushed against his thigh as she resettled herself, another glance up to meet his gaze for the briefest second, a flash of shared emotion, of that feeling of being wrapped together all too intimately even as they sat here among the holiday chatter.

She dare not glance at the clock again, to be disappointed by the way the hands seemed to refuse to move. All she wanted was those moments alone with him, to give into the sense she had something was shifting, that she was at the edge of a precipice. Once she would gladly fall from if it meant his arms were around her.

As the required hours finally passed and the adieus allowed, she trailed slowly behind him across the marble of the foyer. Steps still all the more, she watched as his back as he shrugged into the coat Carson held out for him. She tried hard not to let her gaze flash up to that garland wagged above the vestibule, glossy green leaves and red velvet trip peppered with telltale white berries.

“Mary?”

He was frowning back at her, holding her coat out for her. She glanced over to see Carson slip away down the stairway door, but still Matthew stared at her. She tried hard in that moment to not let the warm prickle of expectation dashed dampen her eyes, and instead lifted her chin, joining him, and letting him slide the coat up her arms and over her shoulders.

If it were actually snowing out, perhaps it would be easier for her to hold on to this facade of iciness.

Before she could turn to reach the door, his breath tickled warm against her ear, “Mistletoe.”

God, he would break her. She would shatter right here, a foolish woman in love. Even as he turned her in his arms to whisper a soft lingering kiss over her lips, she hated herself for being selfish enough to expect more than this. Finger curling at the back of his neck, she returned his caresses, reminding herself she had so much more than she deserved already.

She stared out the car window on the drive back to their flat, taking in the holiday lights that were magnified and splintered about by the rain. Her fingers were warm where his were wrapped around them, but the rest of her felt so cold and heavy. She tried to shake it off, the emotion of disappointment that seemed to weight her down.

She had been nearly certain that there was supposed to be more. No, she wanted more, demanding, expecting some fairytale moment. Where that obsession had come from she had no idea, but she needed to put it away. Mistletoe was mistletoe for them, for him. She was making it into something more, and perhaps now with Boxing Day over, she could pack it away with all the other silly nonsense of the season she had bought into.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A wintery sun was feebly poking it’s way though thinning gray to greet pavements and roofs still wet with rain that refused to chill calling for a white Christmas. She hummed a tired stirring, stretching her legs under the warm cocoon of covers, slowly opening her eyes to find Matthew smiling at her from his pillow.

“Good morning, most gorgeous darling,” he murmured, a hand finding her hip under the covers, a feathery caress, a gentle call to wakefulness.

How could she want more than this? She smiled, and leaned over to bush grateful lips against his before dropping a kiss on the end of his nose, and then his forehead.

His light laugh that rumbled beside her made her smile and scoot closer until she felt a much more acceptable ration of skin touch skin had been achieved. She let out a happy sigh, and let her eyes drift closed again. “I think I need a proper lie-in this morning.” She hesitated a second before cracking a lid to peek at him. “Perhaps with tea.”

Fingers loosed from her hip, and he turned away for a moment, reaching back towards his nightstand. “I might have to see if Father Christmas can get on that for you.”

She was about to give him a pout, and ran cold toes up his shin, pleased at least she made him jump. But then he was facing her again, something in his hand.

“Here,” he slid the square box across the duvet to her.

Curious she turned it over. “What’s this?”

“Just an extra something I had under the tree for you.”

The teasing glint she expected in his eye wasn’t there. Instead, she could almost see a nervousness, a tension written across his features.

“From two days ago?”

His eyes met her querry, but she noticed the tinge to his cheeks, that telling sign he was up to something.

Untying the ribbon around the box, she lifted the lid, and puckered her brow as she looked down into the bed of gold tissue.

“Mistletoe?” She looked at him, a sudden iciness finding its way to the pit of her stomach. “Is this a request for more decoration around the flat? Because I think you are a wee bit late.”

He reach over to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “There are still ten days of Christmas left.”

“And you are short on kisses?”

“Maybe.”

That look of expectation on his face was becoming clearer and clearer, but she wasn’t sure what he was playing at.

Reaching in to lift the bundle of tied branches out, she caught sight of something looped in the golden bow. She froze, not sure she was seeing it right, the sparkle there. Her heart leapt, pounding madly against her chest, and she lifted suddenly nervous eyes to look at him, speechless.

He nodded slowly at her, reaching out to take her hand that was still hovering above the mistletoe.

His voice was shaky whisper. “Will you?”

She gripped his hand spasmodically, realizing she hadn’t imagined it, the sparkle of diamonds on a band of gold. Yet still words were beyond her, and all she could do was nod, the tightness of her heart pushing the warmth of tears to her eyes.

There was a matching sheen of moisture in his gaze as he squeezed her hand back before reaching to tug the bow, the golden loops effortlessly collapsing, slipping the delicate ring off the ribbon and shifting it to the tip of her finger.

“Marry me, Mary Crawley. Because I can’t imagine my life without you in it forever.”

A laugh of pure joy bubbled forth from her, quickly joined by his chuckle of relief as his lips caught hers.

“So if a couple is caught under the mistletoe has to kiss, what does it mean if there is mistletoe between the couple in bed?”

She chuckled wickedly against his mouth. “Oh, I think we can figure that one out right enough.”


End file.
